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London  Bridge; 


OR, 


CAPITAL   AND    LABOR. 


^  gam  in  the  Simw. 


BY 


PROFESSOR  JAMES   A.   MARTLING. 


For  heaven  holds  men  of  one  degree  ; 
An  equal-born  fraternity. 


BOSTON: 
JAMES    II.    EARLE,    PUBLISHER, 

"*  20    IIAWLEY     STREET. 
l88l. 


COPYRIGHT, 

1SS1, 
By  E.  L.  Martling. 


Stereotyped  at  the  Boston  Rtereottte  Foundry, 
No.  4  Pearl  Street. 


WRITTEN    FOR 

MY   WIFE,    EMILY, 

AND 

DEDICATED   TO 

The  Worlungmen  of  &mmcn. 


PREFATORY    NOTE. 

Professor  Martling's  complete  poetical  works, 
in  one  volume,  will  soon  be  given  to  the  public.  "  Los 
Angeles,"  which  first  appeared  in  the  San  Francisco 
Bulletin,  and  was  copied  by  our  western  and  New 
York  papers,  was  by  many  public  men  called  a  "  lit- 
tle gem."  Rev.  M.  L.  Williston,  now  in  Germany, 
writes,  "  I  pronounce  it  a  modern  classic." 

Of  his  last  poem,  on  "  Death,"  Wendell  Phillips 
says,  "I  think  the  Professor's  verses  very  striking 
and  beautiful,  and  the  lines  are  exquisitely  finished." 

This  forthcoming  collection  of  Poems  contains 
vivid  pictures  of  every-day  life.  Some  of  them  have 
become  historic,  dating  back  to  anti-slavery  times. 

Professor  Martling  translated  Homer's  "Illiad," 
but  had  only  published  the  first  Book.  The  follow- 
ing are  some  of  the  criticisms  sent  him  : 

Hon.  Wm.  E.  Gladstone,  Prime  Minister  of  Eng- 
land, said  of  it,  "  It  seems  to  me  to  do  him  great 
credit." 

Wendell  Phillips  wrote,  "It  shows  great  mastery 
of  the  original,  and  rare  power  of  language." 

Dr.  Post  of  St.  Louis  :  "The  translation  seems  to 
me  scholarly,  and  executed  with  rare  fidelity  and  ex- 
actness of  correspondence,  in  word  and  thought,  to 
the  original :  at  the  same  time  it  is  poetic  in  diction, 
and  with  rhythmic  harmony  of  structure." 

"London  Bridge  "  was  written  at  Spadra,  in  1878, 
but  the  "Prologue"  and  "  Workingmen's  Song" 
were  writen  in   1880. 


$oi\g  of  tl\e  \\Toickir\^eii. 


SONG  OF  THE  WORKINGMEN. 

We  be  workingmen,  we  ! 
Ours  be  shoulders  labor-worn, 
Arms  of  brawn  and  hands  of  horn  ; 
Still,  though  sometimes  overborne,  — 
Still,  though  toil  be  paid  with  scorn,  — 
Independent  we ! 

Not  of  the  commune,  we  ! 

Corn  should  grow  for  him  who  delves ; 

Heaven  helps  them  that  help  themselves  ; 

But  the  secret  tens  and  twelves 

Nurse  a  host  of  sponging  elves  ! 

Not  of  the  Jacobins,  we ! 

11 


I2  LONDON  BRIDGE. 

Not  of  the  anarchists,  we  ! 
In  this  country  of  the  free, 
All  is  hope  for  you  and  me  ; 
If  there  something  higher  be, 
Who  should  have  it,  if  not  we  ? 
Not  of  the  levelers,  we  ! 

Not  of  agrarians,  we  ! 
Labor  is  not  all  a  curse ! 
Toil  is  hard,  but  crime  is  worse  ! 
Have  we  but  an  empty  purse, 
That  the  morrow  may  reverse  ! 
Not  of  the  sand-lot,  we ! 

Not  of  infidels,  we  ! 
Nay,  and  even  if  we  were, 
Could  a  fellow-laborer 
To  such  Leader  dare  demur, 


SONG   OF  THE    WORKINGMEN.      13 


As  the  Christ  —  the  Carpenter  ? 
Nay,  no  infidels,  we ! 

We  are  workingmen,  we  ! 
Christ  His  followers  thus  addressed  ; 
Whoso  asks  to  be  confessed 
Chief  of  all  and  lordliest, 
Should  be  servant  to  the  rest ! 
We  are  servants,  we  ! 

Though  we  journeymen  be, 
Sometimes  tramps,  unhoused,  unfed, 
Wanderers  disinherited  ! 
Still,  of  Some  One  was  it  said  : 
"  Not  a  where  to  lay  his  head  ! ' 
"  Tramps  ? "  —  And  what  was  He  ? 


14 


LONDON  BRIDGE. 


We  be  laborers,  we  ! 
We  behold  benignant  eyes, 
Bending  on  us  from  the  skies, 
Telling  us  that  we  can  rise, 
Only  through  self-sacrifice ! 
We  be  workingmen,  we  ! 


PROLOGUE. 

Fairest  of  lands  !     Sole  home  of  liberty  ! 
Land  of  the  free  !  — ■  the  equal  home  of  all ! 
Land  of  my  love  !     I  have  a  fear  for  thee 
Lest  the  strong  arches  of  thy  fabric  fall 
Into  remediless  ruin,  as  the  wall 
Of  haughty  Nineveh  ;  and  one  shall  sit  — 
Him  hap,  who  on  the  ruins  of  St.  Paul 
Sits  to  sketch  London  Bridge — and  add  to  it 
Thee  too,  when  Trojafnit,  shall  of  thee  be 
writ. 

I  fear  for  thee,  lest  of  the  pillared  state, 
Through  lust  of  office,  and  the  greed  of  gain, 
Thine  equal  arches  from  unequal  weight, 
Topple  and  plunge  into  the  depths  amain. 

2  17 


1 8  LONDON  BRIDGE. 

The  clamors  of  the  poor  —  thy  cry  of  pain 
My  mother  in  thine  agony  !  —  the  stay  — 
The  pier  is  groaning  'neath   the  unwonted 

strain, 
And  battlement  and  buttress  may  give  away  ! 
God  in  His  infinite  pity  long  avert  the  day ! 

Yet  not  the  commune  —  not  the  levelers 
Who  always  level  downward  —  to  the  poor 
Are  their  best  friends.     The  crude  philoso- 
phers 
From  gorge  and  lapstone  —  ignorant  and 

sure 
Because  so  ignorant,  - —  they  can  never  cure 
The  ills  of  social  order !  — and,  indeed, 
The  ill  is  not  all  ill,  and  to  endure 
Is  manly,  were  it  ill.     The  better  creed 
Is  this  —  'tis  Christ's  —  let  each  regard  his 
brother's  need. 


PROLOGUE.  19 


All  is  not  ill,  if  rightly  understood  ; 
That  is  not  ill  that  stirs  the  inner  fire  ; 
The  inequalities  of  life  are  good  : 
They  serve  to  quicken  us  —  to  wake  desire 
For  wealth  it  may  be  —  or  for  somewhat 

higher. 
And  the   low    hind,  whom   pinching   want 

compels 
To  ceaseless  labor,  if  his  want  inspire 
Him  to  incessant  struggle,  he  excels 
Himself  thereby,  and  may  attain  to  some- 


thing else. 


And  charity  and  gentle  sympathy  — 
The  fellow-feeling  for  a  brother's  woe  — 
Are  ever  born  of  dire  necessity! 
Ah  !  if  there  were  no  want,  we  must  forego 
The  fountains  sweet  of  tenderness,  that  glow 


20  LONDON  BRIDGE. 

From  the  full  heart  of  pity  —  bubbling  o'er 
In  kindly  deeds,  that  human  nature  show 
Still  Godlike  in  commiseration  for 
The  Master's  poor  —  that  we  have  with  us 
evermore ! 

The  "  Builder  of  the  Bridge  "  —  the  "  Ponti 

Fex  ! " 
Termed  wisely  thus  the  ancient  Roman  race, 
Their  highest  priest,  who  wielded  both  the 

Rex 
That  symbolized  religion,  and  the  mace 
Of  office  in  the  commonwealth's  chief  place — 
Head  of  the  church  and  state  at  once.     If  we 
As  wisely  could   conjoin   the  strength  and 

grace 
Of  law  and  love,  there  could  no  danger  be, 
Land  of  my  birth,  I   then  should  have  no 

fear  for  thee ! 


LONDON    BRIDGE. 


|ARAH  and  Bessie, 
And  Lucy  and  Lily, 
And  Jack  and  Jessie, 
And  Tom  and  Tilly, 
All  were  playing  at  London  Bridge, 
While  at  the  door  was  Little  Midge, 
Holding  her  dolly  to  her  breast, 
Watching  and  dreaming  about  the  rest. 

23 


24  LONDON  BRIDGE. 

Back  and  forth  they  swayed  and  swung, 

And  a  childish  ditty  sung  ; 

O'er  and  o'er,  again,  again, 

One  monotonous  refrain, 

"  London  Bridge  is  fallen  down, 

Fallen  down,  fallen  down, 

Lofidon  Bridge  is  fallen  down, 

My  fair  lady  /  " 

II. 

The  wind  was  blowing  up  from  the  sea, 
Lightly  caressing  forehead  and  hair, 
Kissing  them  all,  the  brown  and  the  fair  ;  - 
For  Heaven  holds  men  of  one  degree, 
An  equal-born  fraternity,  — 
And  all  were  on  a  level  there. 
Plain  their  garb,  but  necklace  and  crown 
Fell  from  the  largess  of  the  sun  ; 


CHILDHOOD.  25 


Gem  and  jewel  were  raining  down, 
Flecking  and  decking  every  one, — 
Decking  them  all,  the  brown  and  the  fair, 
For  all  were  on  a  level  there,  — 
For  heaven  holds  men  of  one  degree, 
An  equal-born  fraternity ! 
Back  and  forth  they  swayed  and  swung ! 
O'er  and  o'er  their  song  they  sung ; 
One  monotonous  refrain, 
Like  the  patter  of  the  rain, 
Like  the  moan  of  summer's  breeze, 
Like  the  hum  of  summer's  bees,  — 
Like  the  wash  of  silver  seas, 
Over  strands  of  silvern  sands  ;  — 
Like  a  symphony  of  bells,  — 
Like  the  song  of  ocean  shells,  — 
Like  the  noises  of  a  town 
In  a  dreamy  land  ! 


26  LONDON  BRIDGE. 

"  London  Bridge  is  fallen  down  — 
Fallen  down  — fallen  down  ! 
London  Bridge  is  fallen  down, 

My  lady  fair!  " 

Happy,  happy  childhood's  days  ! 

Happy,  happy  childhood's  plays  ! 

Healthful  limbs  and  hearts  of  feather  ! 
Every  joint  and  thew  astrain,  — 
Tugging  with  their  might  and  main  !  — 

Pulsing,  struggling  together ! 

All  the  sport  is  in  the  strife  ! 

Face  to  face  and  might  to  might, 

So  they  keep  the  bridge  aright ! 

Ah  !  that  thus  it  were  with  life ! 

Happy,  happy  childhood's  years  ! 

All  were  fellows  there  and  peers ! 


THE  FUTURE.  27 


III. 


This  was  in  the  long  ago  ; 

Some  are  wrinkled  now,  and  old  ; 

Some  are  in  the  church-yard  mold, 

Sleeping  where  the  roses  grow ! 

"  London  Bridge  is  fallen  down,  fallen  doivn, 

Fallen  down  ! 
London  Bridge  is  fallen  down, 

My  lady  fair  /" 

This  was  in  the  long  ago, 
Little, — little  do  we  know 
What  the  future  hath  in  store  — ■ 
What  there  is  that  lieth  before 
Any  of  us,  —  if  there  be  at  our  feet 
Bridal  robe,  or  winding  sheet ! 


28  LONDON  BRIDGE. 

IV. 

Ah,  't  were  better  to  be  dead, 
Than  forsaking  love  and  truth, 
With  disdain  and  scorn  to  tread 
On  the  playmates  of  our  youth  ! 

It  were  better  to  be  dead, 
Than  from  truth  and  love  to  part, 
And  to  live  and  have  it  said, 
"  His  is  dry-rot  of  the  heart ! " 

It  were  better  to  be  dead, 
Than  to  live  with  heavy  purse,  — 
Heavy  with  -the  price  of  bread,  — 
Heavy  with  the  poor  man's  curse ! 

It  were  better  to  be  dead, 
Than  with  leprous  soul  and  feet, 
Drag,  as  felons,  to  the  Dread- 
Presence  of  the  judgment  seat ! 


BETTER    TO  BE  DEAD.  29 


V. 

It  were  better  to  be  dead,  — 
Better —  better  in  the  grave, 
Than  survive  our  manhood  fled, 
And  to  be  a  rich  man's  slave ! 

It  were  better  to  be  dead, 
Than  to  see  our  kith  and  kin  — 
E'en  the  wife  whose  youth  we  wed,  - 
Pale  with  want,  and  hunger  thin  ! 

It  were  better  to  be  dead, 
Than  to  live  and  curse  our  kind, — 
Tramping  with  despairing  tread, 
For  the  work  we  cannot  find  ! 

It  were  better  to  be  dead, 
Than  to  hear  the  hopeless  cry 
Of  our  little  ones  for  bread  ! 
Christ !  it  were  not  hard  to  die  ! 


3o  LONDON  BRIDGE. 

VI. 

London  Bridge  is  fallen  down  ! 
Arch  and  buttress  all  are  gone  : 
Truss  and  beam  and  massy  stone, 
All  by  time  are  overthrown  ;  — 
And  the  fragments  scattered  far, 
Like  the  fragments  of  a  star  ;  — 
Some  perhaps  with  fire  divine, 
And  self-luminous,  to  shine  ; 
In  the  empyrean  to  burn, 
Symbols  of  the  soul  eterne  !  — 
Wanderers  some,  from  place  to  place, 
Planets,  fugitive  through  space, 
Through  the  boundless  void  of  heaven, 
Into  utter  darkness  driven  ! 


HBMIIIIIIIIII»IJIIIBilBf|||||fa> 


SARAH.  33 


VII. 

London  Bridge  is  fallen  down  ! 
Arching  way  and  battlement, 
Wedded  beams  asunder  rent, 
In  the  floods  to  surge  and  drown ! 
Jeweled  sunbeams  tripping  o'er, 
Tread  the  dimpled  arms  no  more  ! 
Flitting  smiles,  and  love  and  pride, 
Dash  no  more  from  side  to  side  ! 
Laugh  no  more,  nor  boisterous  shout, 
From  the  angles  leapeth  out  ! 
Here  and  there  the  fragments  strown, 
London  Bridge  is  fallen  down  ! 

VIII. 

Sarah  long  ago  was  wed 

To  a  thrifty  Yorkshire  farmer, 

And  they  called  her  Mrs.  Armor : 


34  LONDON  BRIDGE. 

And  the  simple  life  she  led, 

Made  her  healthful  and  content,  — 

Kept  her  sweet  and  innocent : 

For  the  plenty  of  her  board, 

Blesses  she  the  loving  Lord  ; 

Grudging  not  nor  crust  nor  sigh, 

For  the  homeless  passer-by, 

But  with  tears  her  eyes  bedim, 

As  she  looketh  upon  him, 

And  she  scarce  can  get  her  breath 

As  unto  herself  she  saith  : 

"  London  Bridge  is  fallen  down  !  — 

Fallen  dozvn  !  " 
Homeless  wanderers  such  as  he, 
Fugitive  from  fortune's  frown, 
Haply  may  my  playmates  be  ! 


BESS.  35 

IX. 

Laughing,  rollicking,  frolicking  Bess 

Became  an  Australian  shepherdess  ; 

For  she  married  a  fellow,  who  one  fine  day, 

Poached,  and  was  sent  to  Botany  Bay. 

But  to  her  husband  clung  our  Bess, 

In  his  shame  and  in  his  disgrace, 

And  she  helped  him  to  hold  up  his  face, 

And  get  them  a  home  in  the  wilderness. 

There  they  stumbled  on  gold,  and  came 

Into  America,  just  before 

The  breaking  out  of  the  civil  war, 

Whence  he  emerged  with  rank  and  fame, 

Stolen  cotton  and  rotten  beef 

Stamped  him  murderer  and  thief! 

But  the  press  became  his  bawd, 

And  for  hire  concealed  the  fraud ! 

Trump  and  cannon  hailed  him  chief ! 


36  LONDON  BRIDGE. 

Then  with  his  fame  and  gold,  he  won 

A  place  in  Congress,  at  Washington. 

There  his  wife  is  a  star,  of  course, 

Mrs.  General  Wilberforce  ! 

He  ?  his  vote  is  always  sure 

For  the  oppressors  of  the  poor  ! 

When  with  him  our  Bessie  pleads, 

Telling  of  the  poor  man's  needs, 

Telling  him  of  childhood's  days,  — 

To  the  pleading  of  her  eyes, 

In  the  pauses  of  her  sighs, 

The  besotted  monster  says  : 

"  He  will  vote  for  London  Bridge, 

If  to  place  and  privilege, 

To  the  fortunate  and  rich 

It  devote  a  special  niche  : 

But  the  London  Bridge  they  made, 

When  she  with  her  playmates  played, 


LUCY. 

It  is  fallen  —  fallen  down  ! 

Fill  the  cup  till  memory  drown ! 

He  had  dropped  his  childhood  off! 

Men  are  but  a  hoggish  host, 

In  a  scramble  for  the  trough, 

And  the  biggest  gets  the  most ! " 

X. 

Lucy  went  to  the  hall  as  maid, 

On  sped  the  years,  and  still  she  stayed  ; 

Modest,  humble,  satisfied, 

There  she  stayed  till  the  lady  died, 

Stayed  and  took  the  keys  in  her  hands, 

While  the  earl  withdrew  to  foreign  lands  ; 

Stayed,  and  ate  of  angels  food  — 

The  communion  of  the  good  ; 

For  she  loving  converse  held, 

With  the  sages  who  of  eld 


37 


38 


LONDON  BRIDGE. 


Caused  our  English  tongue  to  rise 

To  the  level  of  the  skies  ; 

Drank  she  of  the  living  well, 

Pure  and  inexhaustible, 

Of  philosophy  and  song, 

Draughts  that  made  her  spirit  strong, 

And  that  drew  her  from  the  plain, 

Where,  too  oft  her  sex  remain, 

E'en  through  grossness  dense  as  night 

Delved,  as  miners  delve  for  coal, 

Changing  it  to  glorious  light, 

In  the  alembic  of  her  soul ! 

Soothed  by  the  gentle  touch  of  the  years, 

The  earl  found  solace  for  his  tears  ; 

And,  'neath  that  sky  whose  folds  beneath 

His  loved  one  lay,  again  could  breathe  ; 

And  could  endure  again  to  tread 

Where  lay  the  ashes  of  his  dead. 


LUCY. 

When  he  returned,  he  found  the  fair, 
And  ripe,  and  matronly  Lucy  there. 
Was  she  beneath  him  ?     Not  if  youth, 
And  beauty  and  a  soul  of  truth, 
And  sterling  sense,  and  manners  frank, 
May  compensate  for  lack  of  rank, 
Lack  of  rank  ?     The  man  who  can 
Keep  through  life  his  soul  erect, 
True  to  God  and  true  to  man,  — 
He  is  peer,  of  God  elect ! 
For  her  dower  our  Lucy  brought 
Such  a  soul  illumed  with  thought, 
She  had  left  the  dregs  and  lees, 
And  had  culled  from  learning's  page 
Honey,  pure  as  that  which  bees 
Cull  from  California  sage. 
She  brought  to  him  a  life  untaint ; 
She  brought  the  virtues  of  a  saint, 


39 


4o  LONDON  BRIDGE. 


If  such  inhere  in  living  woman, 

And  be  not  wholly  superhuman. 

He  brought  his  wealth  and  rank,  and  she 

God's  patent  of  nobility  ! 

If  there  condescension  were 

It  was  not  from  him  to  her, 

Well,  they  were  wed,  and  she  became 

Thereby  the  Lady  Lucy  Graeme ! 

Lady,  lady  Lucy  Graeme ! 
Though  we  hold  you  free  from  blame, 
Yet  the  feudal  heritage 
From  a  past  and  ruder  age, 
Park  and  meadow,  glade  and  lea, 
From  the  mountain  to  the  sea, 
Which  the  barons,  stout  and  fierce, 
Wo*n  and  held  with  bows  and  spears,  — 
Golden  leaflet,  wreath  of  pearl, 
Which  are  brought  you  by  the  earl,  — 


MIDGE    TO  LILY. 


41 


These,  though  you  be  free  from  blame, 
Though  we  deem  you  all  the  same, 
In  your  leal  and  noble  heart, 
Wrest  you  from  your  mates  apart. 
They  for  bread  may  toil  and  sweat, 
While  your  temples  you  encrown, 
With  a  jeweled  coronet ! 

"  London  Bridge  is  fallen  down  !  — 
Fallen  down  !  — fallen  down  ! 

My  fair  lady  !  " 

XI. 

O  youth  and  love  !     The  light  and  melody 
Of  life  !  whereof  our  souls  grow  weary  ne'er, 
Stale,  flat,  and  unprofitable,  albeit,  be 
All  else  :  —  and  palling  on  the  eye  and  ear  ; 
Making  us  look  with  longing  to  the  bier ! 


42  LONDON  BRIDGE. 

Love  came  to  Lily's  youth,  a  morning  star 
Of  opaline  dawn,  that  ever  shone  more  clear. 
Love,  as  the  morning  from  his  radiant  car, 
Signaled  to  Hope,  upon  the  luminous  heights 
afar. 

So  wrote  our  Midge  of  Lily.     But  she  sung 
Herself  a  homelier  strain,  with  voice  as  sweet 
As  ever  starling,  in  the  dews,  among 
The  orange-blooms,  or  bobolink  in  the  wheat, 
Frank,  cheerful,  kind,  unsullied  with  deceit ; 
Full  of  all  human  impulse,  good  and  true ; 
Sure  of  her  lover,  whom  she  knew  complete 
In  manliness  ;  into  her  love  she  grew ! 
And  carolled  oft  such  song,  as  here  we  give 
to  you. 


LILY'S  SONG. 


43 


Lily's  Song. 
Bob,  the  banker,  came  to  me, 
Asking  me  his  wife  to  be, 
He  has  money,  he  has  lands, 
He  has  soft  and  dainty  hands  ; 
But  my  heart  it  was  not  free, 
And  he  could  not  wed  with  me. 
Nay,  I  shall  be,  for  I  can 
Be  the  ivife  of  a  ivorkingman. 

"  Little  Lily,  go  with  me, 

Mistress  of  my  fate  to  be  ; 

Maids  are  waiting  your  commands, 

And  you  need  not  soil  your  hands." 

That  was  what  he  said,  but  I 

Curtly  gave  him  this  reply  : 

"  Nay,  I  will  be,  for  I  can 

Be  the  wife  of  a  workingman  !  " 


44 


LONDON  BRIDGE. 


I  know  some  one  I'll  confess, 
Who  he  is  you  cannot  guess  : 
But  he  is  so  wise  and  strong, 
And  his  life  so  free  from  wrong  ! 
I'll  not  wear  a  satin  dress  ; 
I'll  not  lounge  in  idleness  ; 
But  I  shall  be,  for  I  can, 
Be  the  wife  of  an  honest  man  ! 

t  •  •  • 

Little  Lily  !  Alas,  alas  ! 
She  is  lying  under  the  grass ! 
In  the  village  cold  and  still, 
Among  the  marbles  under  the  hill ! 

O  she  was  beautiful  that  day  ! 
We  had  crowned  her  Queen  of  May  ; 
Then  her  cheeks  were  rosy  red  ; 
Rose,  no  lily,  then  they  said. 


LIL  Y.  45 

Donald  was  there,  so  dear  to  her  ! 
Such  a  well-matched  pair  they  were  ! 
Proud  was  he  of  his  bonnie  love, 
Proud  of  the  mettled  steeds  he  drove. 

Gayly,  gayly  rode  they  away, 
At  the  close  of  the  festal  day. 
On  the  morrow  they  would  wed  :  — 
Ere  the  morrow,  they  were  dead  ! 

Close  to  the  brink  of  the  Hermit's  Ledge, 
Close  to  the  precipice's  edge, 
Reared  the  steeds,  and  before  us  all, 
Plunged  they  down  the  mountain  wall  ! 

Hark  to  the  cry  of  wild  despair  ! 
Tis  the  eldritch  scream  of  the  steeds,  mid 
air  ! 


46  LONDON  BRIDGE. 

Down  and  down  to  the  gulf  beneath, 
Into  the  open  jaws  of  death  ! 

O  the  woful,  woful  day  ! 
There  our  mangled  darlings  lay  !  — 
Under  the  dewy  sycamore's  drip 
Arm  in  arm  and  lip  to  lip  ! 

So  we  laid  them  under  the  grass,  — 
Her  and  her  Donald  !  alas,  alas  ! 
In  the  village  under  the  hill, 
Lily  pale,  and  cold  and  still ! 

XII. 

Jack  was  a  brawny  lad  of  eleven  ; 
Jessie  a  little  girl  of  seven  ; 
Playmates  true  ;  but  what  else  were 
She  to  him,  or  he  to  her? 


JACK  AND  BESSIE.  47 

Nought?  but  something  might  have  been, 

At  twenty-one  and  seventeen. 

Then  the  awkward  lad  began 

To  reveal  the  handsome  man  ; 

Then  the  beauteous  maiden  stood 

Perfect  in  her  womanhood  ! 

Then  must  to  herself  confess 

Her  surpassing  loveliness : 

Then  would  e'en  in  secret  blush, 

With  her  conscious  passion's  flush. 

And  were  this  a  tale  of  love, 

Here  were  told  what  charms  inwove, 

Here  were  told  what  spells  inwrought 

Heart  and  hope,  and  aim  and  thought, 

Every  throb  of  brain  and  blood, 

Like  intergrowing  bud  and  bud, 

By  the  gardeners  cunning  craft, 

In  a  common  stock  ingraft. 


48  LONDON  BRIDGE. 


Like  the  mists  that  down  the  side 
Of  the  mountain  slowly  glide, 
As  they  to  the  vale  descend 
Indistinguishably  blend  ;  — 
As  the  silver  and  the  gold 
Which  the  mountain  treasuries  hold, 
Molten  by  volcanic  heat, 
Till  like  ocean  tides  they  beat, 
In  a  common  mass  are  run, 
And  indissolubly  one,  — 
So  that  all  the  chemist's  art 
Them  can  nevermore  dispart. 
Souls  thus  graft  by  cunning  love, 
From  each  other  ne'er  remove  ; 
Spirits  thus  that  interblend, 
Heavenward  evermore  ascend  ; 
Lives  thus  molten  into  one, 
Sever  not  till  life  is  done. 


JACK  AND   JESSIE.  49 


In  a  cottage  by  the  sea, 
Noiselessly,  noiselessly, 
As  the  swans  on  mountain  meres, 
Floated  by  their  happy  years. 
As  the  billows  on  the  seas, 
Waved  their  barley  on  the  lees. 
As  the  breakers  at  their  feet, 
Was  the  blossom  of  their  wheat ; 
As  the  voices  of  the  brine, 
Was  the  lowing  of  their  kine  ; 
Plenty  for  them,  many  a  gift 
Dropped  into  the  hand  of  thrift. 
In  the  grass,  the  roses  'mong, 
Other  flowers  in  time  there  sprung  ; 
Fun,  at  even,  sported  with 
Sylvan  boys  that  were  no  myth  : 
Echo  laughed  amid  the  swirls 
Of  the  laughter  of  their  girls. 


50  LONDON  BRIDGE. 

Thus,  though  not  above  the  poor, 
Though  they  led  a  life  obscure, 
Though  by  fortune  uncaressed, 
Yet  in  blessing  they  were  blessed. 
As  if,  on  some  islet  sweet, 
Where  the  morning  sits  to  lave 
In  the  clear  and  glistening  wave 
The  rosy  splendors  of  her  feet, 
And  the  happy  sea-gulls  press 
Her,  their  mistress,  to  caress  ;  — 
Drifted  on  the  ocean  foam, — 
Drifted  thither  by  the  chance 
Of  propitious  circumstance, 
And  thereon  had  found  a  home, 
In  the  lake  within  the  ridge 
Of  the  encincturing  coral,  and 
Rested  on  the  shining  sand, 
Fragments  borne  from  London  Bridge. 


TOM  AND    TILLY.  51 


XIII. 

Tom  and  Tilly.     It  were  as  well 

If  the  story  were  not  to  tell, 

Theirs  through  life  the  hardships  were 

That  befall  the  laborer. 

She,  a  woman  ;  he,  a  man  ; 

They  their  wedded  life  began. 

What  was  all  their  diligence? 

Still  it  brought  no  recompense, 

Children  but  increased  their  cares  ; 

Squalor  and  disease  were  theirs, 

Lower  still  they  sank  in  slime  ! 

Every  curse  but  that  of  crime  — 

Curse  accumulate  on  curse  — 

Weighed  them  down  to  worse  and  worse. 

Once,  indeed,  there  seemed  to  ope 

In  their  sky  a  gleam  of  hope  ; 


52 


LONDON  BRIDGE. 


Some  far  relative  deceased, 

Left  to  them  some  small  bequest ; 

And  therewith  they  sought  to  fly 

From  untoward  destiny, 

To  the  new  world  in  the  west,  — 

To  the  islands  of  the  blest. 

But  not  thus  the  fiend  of  ill 

Did  they  'scape  :  he  chased  them  still, 

Kept  them  from  whate'er  they  wished, 

Left  them  sick,  impoverished, 

Waifs  upon  a  foreign  strand, 

Strangers  in  a  stranger  land. 

Little  recked  they  sweat  and  moil, 

So  they  had  but  leave  to  toil. 

Hunger  made  them  only  too 

Glad  of  anything  to  do. 

Glad  to  wear  out  thews  and  bones 

For  their  famished  little  ones, 


TOM  AND    TILLY.  53 


And  to  shield  them  from  the  gaunt 
And  ghastly  skeleton  of  want. 
Huts  and  palaces  of  pride, 
Wealth  and  want  were  side  by  side. 
Yet  will  like  unto  its  like. 
And  there  came  the  Pittsburg  strike. 
Then  the  sight  of  torn  up  tracks, 
Merchandise  in  flaming  stacks, 
Plunder,  havoc,  terror,  gloom, 
As  it  were  the  day  of  doom  ! 
Pillaged  depots  ;  gusty  rains 
Of  cinders  from  consuming  trains  ; 
Women  with  disheveled  hair, 
And  with  hungry  eyes  aglare, 
And  with  lean  and  bony  breasts 
Showing  through  their  ragged  vests, 
Burning,  screaming,  as  they  were 
Ministers  of  lucifer  !  — 


54 


LONDON  BRIDGE. 


And  delirous  with  delight, 
Cursing  God  and  cursing  man, 
Like  the  dam  of  Caliban, 
Or  the  fiends  of  nether  night ! 
London  Bridge  was  fallen  down, 
'Twixt  the  country  and  the  town  ; 
'Twixt  the  nation's  lowly  wards, 
And  its  self-anointed  lords  ; 
'Twixt  the  brawny  sons  of  toil 
And  the  holders  of  the  soil ; 
'Twixt  the  men  of  horny  fists, 
And  the  gloved  monopolists  ! 
Over  the  fallen  ways,  alas  ! 
Loves  no  longer  pass  and  pass  ; 
But  a  surging  gulf  divides 
More  and  more  the  hostile  sides  : 
Bridgeless  !  as  the  gulf  betwixt 
Hell  and  highest  heaven  fixed  ! 


TOM  AND    TILLY.  55 


But  the  law  is  pitiless,  and 
Laid  on  Tom  its  mailed  hand. 
Poor,  poor  Tom  !  to  prison  led  ! 
There  upon  a  felon's  bed  — 
There  he  died  !     A  felon's  shame 
Staining  the  unsullied  name 
Of  a  man,  who  dared  defy 
His  opressors,  and  to  die !  — 
Of  a  man  who  nobly  fought 
To  secure  the  right  he  sought, 
Facing  death,  as  brave  men  ought ! 
Poor,  poor  Tom  !     To  prison  led  !  — 
Poor,  poor  Tilly  !  —  lacking  bread. 
What  for  her  and  her  babes  was  left  ? 
Death,  or  beggary,  or  theft ! 
So,  one  morn,  at  break  of  day, 
On  her  husband's  grave  she  lay. 


56  LONDON  BRIDGE. 


"  Cause  unknown,"  the  record  saith  ! 

God  knows  !  She  was  starved  to  death! 

Ah  !  the  sorrows  of  the  poor  ! 

Ah  !  the  woes  they  must  endure  ! 

Yet  a  fearful  reckoning 

Comes  for  nabob  and  for  king ! 

If  the  few  will  sate  their  greed, 

Reckless  of  the  hosts  that  need  :  — 

If  the  laws  be  framed  to  hedge 

Precedent  and  privilege, 

And  the  masses  are  to  be 

Serfs  to  a  plutocracy,  — 

God  himself  will  judge  the  cause, 

In  defiance  of  the  laws  ! 

What  to  Him  is  screed  or  scrawl  ? 

He  will  nullify  it  all ! 

In  His  anger  infinite 

He  will  make  a  mock  of  it ! 


MIDGE. 


57 


By  and  by  the  land  shall  rock, 
As  there  were  an  earthquake  shock  ! 
Then  revenge  shall  lick  her  lips  ! 
Then  at  noon  shall  be  eclipse  ! 
And,  as  when  a  comet  sweeps 
Baleful  from  the  upper  deeps, 
Then  the  purple  air  shall  hiss 
With  the  scourge  of  Nemesis  ! 
If  the  earth  your  feet  beneath, 
Ye  have  sown  with  dragon's  teeth, 
Ye  shall  rue  the  harvest  when 
Spring  they  up  as  armed  men  ! 

XIV. 

On  the  steps  was  little  Midge, 
Watching  the  play  of  London  Bridge  ; 
In  a  hazy  and  dreamy  way, 
Wondering  at  the  simple  play  ; 


58  LONDON  BRIDGE. 

Wondering  what  would  happen  when 
They  were  grown  to  women  and  men. 
Child  she  was,  and  to  her  breast, 
Childlike  she  her  dolly  pressed  ; 
Child  she  was,  but  not  by  years 
Measure  we  the  lives  of  seers ; 
Little  can  material  cause 
Gage  the  spirit's  finer  laws  ; 
Or  discern  what  subtle  sense 
Antedates  experience,  * 

And  the  gifted  child  endows 
With  the  poet's  ample  brows. 
Hers  the  spirit-luminous  eye, 
Wherefrom  speaketh  poesy ! 
Hers  such  soul  as  finds  a  tongue 
In  the  notes  of  deathless  song  ; 
As  if  angels  touched  its  keys 
To  celestial  harmonies. 


MIDGE. 


59 


So  she  watched  her  mates  at  play, 
In  a  weird  and  absent  way, 
And  their  destiny  forecast 
As  it  were  already  passed, 
Humming  in  an  undertone 
"  London  Bridge  is  fallen  down  ! 
Fallen  down  !  — fallen  down  ! 
London  Bridge  is  fallen  dozvn  ! 

My  fair  lady  !  " 
"  Some  in  dusty  roads,  and  brown, 
Some  in  alleys  green  and  shady, 
Through  the  country,  through  the  town, 
Hither,  thither,  they  are  strown, 
Scattered,  scattered,  far  and  wide, 
As  the  drift  by  wind  and  tide." 
While  she  to  her  dolly  clung, 
Thus  the  little  dreamer  sung. 


60  LONDON  BRIDGE. 

Yet  the  elfin  prophetess, 

Fairy  sibyl,  could  she  guess 

What  the  gifts  and  graces  were 

Which  the  future  held  for  her  ? 

Goodness  grew  until  full-orbed 

It  into  itself  absorbed 

All  her  life,  and  that  became 

But  a  self-consuming  flame. 

Yet,  although  thereto  she  brought, 

Genius,  labor,  culture,  thought, 

In  her  unassuming  eyes 

All  too  small  the  sacrifice. 

Then  the  curate,  when  she  stood 

At  the  gate  of  womanhood, 

Came  and  saw,  was  conquered,  and 

Wooed  and  won  her,  heart  and  hand. 

In  his  work,  henceforth,  to  his 

Dante,  she  was  Beatrice  ; 


MIDGE.  6 1 


To  his  Numa,  fitlier  say, 
She  was  the  Egeria, 
Teaching  him  to  legislate 
Wisely  for  his  little  State. 
So,  inspired  of  her  he  wrought, 
Entering  the  homes  of  all, 
Lowly  hut  and  lordly  hall  ; 
So,  inspired  of  her,  he  taught 
How  our  social  order  is 
By  opposing  force  upheld  ;  — 
How,  diverse,  our  interests  weld 
Battlements  and  buttresses. 
Turbulent  our  passions  roll, 
Separating  soul  from  soul ; 
But,  if  all  regard  the  good 
Of  the  human  brotherhood, 
And  respect  the  rights  of  each, 
As  the  blessed  gospels  teach  ; 


62  LONDON  BRIDGE. 

If,  with  just  and  equal  laws, 

We  protect  the  poor  man's  cause  ;  - 

If,  across  the  muddy  tide, 

Love  and  faith,  from  side  to  side, 

Mutual  help  and  cheer  shall  flit, 

Then,  shall  struggle  stronger  knit, 

O'er  the  ever-flowing  stream, 

Truss  to  truss,  and  beam  to  beam  ; 

And  the  arches  overspan 

All  that  separates  man  and  man. 

But  the  common  bond  will  break, 

If  the  strong  forsake  the  weak  ;  — 

If  your  wealth  despise  your  want, 

And  your  wise  your  ignorant ; 

If  insatiate  as  sharks 

Be  your  moneyed  oligarchs, 

And  their  hankering  for  flesh 

Daily  glut  with  victims  fresh-. 


THE  CURATE. 


While,  a  wasting  skeleton, 

Sullen  hunger  gnaws  his  bone ! 

If  his  moan  ye  will  not  hear, 

Or  give  answer  with  a  sneer. 

As  for  Tom,  the  curate  said, 

He  was  foolish  and  misled. 

It  was  utterest  lack  of  sense 

To  resort  to  violence  ; 

It  was  useless  ;  and,  beside, 

Howsoever  justified 

The  impoverished  might  be 

In  resisting  tyranny, 

Where  the  flew  held  lordly  sway, 

And  the  many  must  obey  !  — 

In  a  commonwealth  which  has 

No  hereditary  class, 

And  the  veriest  pauper  there 

Might  become  a  millionaire, — 


64  LONDON  BRIDGE. 

In  a  country  where  the  poll 
To  the  people  gives  control, 
And  the  fortresses  of  law 
Towers  adamantine,  draw 
Their  impenetrable  wall 
Round  the  equal  rights  of  all, 
Madness  was  at  highest  pitch 
Whether  men  were  poor  or  rich, 
To  resort  to  force  and  war, 
Whatsoever  it  was  for. 
Still,  not  always  could  endure, 
The  forbearance  of  the  poor. 
Men  were  better  in  their  graves, 
Than  to  be  but  galley  slaves ! 
Yet,  upon  the  wail  for  food, 
There  may  rise  a  cry  for  blood  ! 
When  insatiate  murder  shall, 
In  your  streets  hold  carnival  ! 


THE   CURATE.  65 


Then  shall  London  Bridge  go  down, 
'Twixt  the  noble  and  the  clown, 
'Twixt  the  rich  in  lordly  state 
And  the  Lazarus  at  his  gate ! 
Howsoe'er  it  come,  be  sure 
There  is  succor  for  the  poor ! 
Strong  must  be  the  arm  that  stems 
In  its  wrath  the  flooded  Thames ! 
Stronger  far  an  arm  that  may- 
Stem  the  floods  that  vengeful  day 
Weighted  with  their  shields  and  spears 
Sinks  the  sovereign  with  his  peers ! 
Knight  and  champion,  glaived  and  helmed, 
By  the  waves  are  overwhelmed  ! 
They  that  in  their  chariots  ride  — 
Down  they  plunge  beneath  the  tide ! 
So  the  surging  sea  shall  go 
O'er  the  hosts  of  Pharaoh  ! 


66  LONDON  BRIDGE. 

Horse  and  rider,  overthrown, 

In  the  Red  sea  shall  they  drown  ! 

But,  through  seas  of  blood,  shall  God 

Lead  his  little  ones,  dry  shod  ! 

By  the  nymph  Egeria  taught, 

Thus  the  curate  preached  and  wrought, 

Thus  he  wisely  sought  to  build 

London  Bridge  'twixt  guild  and  guild  ! 

For  Heaven  holds  men  of  one  degree, 
An  equal  born  fraternity . 


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